


blaze of glory

by foxinsocksinabox



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Track and Field AU, Unreliable Narrator, sports shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 22:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxinsocksinabox/pseuds/foxinsocksinabox
Summary: Asahi... has a problem.That problem is 159 centimetres tall and lightly muscled, currently doing leg stretches as he laughs at some joke Tanaka made. As he nonchalantly dips down to touch his palms to the floor, Nishinoya’s shorts ride up, pulling tight over the curves of his-Asahi wrenches himself away so hard he triggers a violent coughing fit.





	blaze of glory

**Author's Note:**

> for [flippinflakes](http://flippinflakes.dreamwidth.org), who prompted:
> 
> Track and Field au because I love me some short shorts. Preferably both into sprinting or long distance running but I can see Asahi doing shotput or all those throwing events and noya doing high jumps. YOU'RE CHOICE I JUST...SHORTS AND LOOSE TANK TOPS OR SUPER TIGHT SHIRTS.

Asahi... has a problem.  
  
That problem is 159 centimetres tall and lightly muscled, currently doing leg stretches as he laughs at some joke Tanaka made. As he nonchalantly dips down to touch his palms to the floor, Nishinoya’s shorts ride up, pulling tight over the curves of his-  
  
Asahi wrenches himself away so hard he triggers a violent coughing fit.  
  
Suga, warming up next to him, snorts and claps him hard on the shoulder. It doesn’t help.  
  
“Asahi,” he says, smirking. “What’s wrong? Frog in your throat?”  
  
Asahi can feel himself start to go a humiliating shade of puce.  
  
“N-no,” he says. “I just. Uh. Breathed wrong.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
When he looks up, Suga is glancing between Asahi and the small knot of second year athletes with raised eyebrows, and Asahi turns abruptly to stalk towards the javelin rack. He pretends he can’t hear Suga snickering in the background, as he wills the colour in his face to subside.  
  
He hefts a javelin in one hand- coach Ukai took one look at his height and arm strength last year, and pulled him from the long jump, instead starting him on all the throwing sports. Karasuno hadn’t done javelin or discus throwing before Ukai arrived, but Asahi finds it suits him.  
  
Daichi is already standing at the short run up coach marked on the field, rotating his right shoulder in preparation for the throw. Asahi mutters a hello as he comes to stand by him, bracing against the javelin to loosens his knees.  
  
The runners are arraying themselves out at the starting line. Asahi can’t help glancing over a few times, with what he hopes is a passable attempt at subtlety.  
  
He and Daichi stretch in companionable silence for all of ten seconds, before Daichi says, “So. Noya, huh?”  
  
So much for subtlety.  
  
Asahi, who just hoisted the javelin onto his shoulder, lets it go. As Daichi cracks up, Asahi clutches his head where the javelin’s tail caught him on its way down.  
  
“You too?!” He yelps, feeling betrayed. Daichi is laughing so hard he’s doubled over, clutching at his javelin like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. Asahi rubs at the tender spot on his skull, shoulders rising around his ears. From the heat in his face, he knows controlling his blush is already a lost cause. “I didn’t mean to- it’s just- I- have you _seen him?_ ”  
  
Before Daichi can respond, Coach Ukai’s voice cracks across the field like a whip. “Asahi! If you drop that javelin again you’re on towel duty for the next week!”  
  
Everyone turns to look at him. Asahi wants to hide under a rock.  
  
“Yes, Coach!” He yells back, face flaming. Tuning out Daichi’s cackling, Asahi picks up the dropped javelin and jogs to the end of the run up.  
  
He breathes deeply, rolling his shoulders. He always does a mental check before he throws; shoulders, wrists, knees and ankles, to make sure everything is right. Strength is only one part of it- proper technique translates to a good throw. Coach Ukai drilled that in early.  
  
Bouncing twice on his toes, Asahi flexes his fingers around the javelin grip, and starts the run.  
  
At least, Asahi thinks, after all of that, he doesn’t screw it up. He catches himself three finger-widths before the foul line and when he looks up, the javelin soars gently through the air, flexing with the force of its spin. It hits its highest point, catches the sunlight, arcs and comes down to stick point first, past the 65 metre line.  
  
Asahi breathes a sigh of relief.  
  
“Nice throw,” Daichi says, sounding almost annoyed. When Asahi sends him a startled look, he grins fiercely and says, “I won’t lose.”  
  
Asahi pauses, then grins back. “Good.”  
  
He trots out to retrieve his javelin, but as he’s tugging out of the grass, the runners flash by. Asahi stops to watch, because there’s Nishinoya on the inside lane, small and compact and _flying_ down the track. They reach the first line of hurdles, and Asahi can’t help the swell of pride in his chest as Nishinoya leans in, thighs bunching, and lifts off, clearing the top of the hurdle with miles to spare.  
  
Nishinoya crosses the finish line way ahead of anyone else, and Asahi can’t take his eyes off him- brilliant, bold, kind Nishinoya, who shines so brightly when he runs.  
  
He might have stood there longer, but Daichi yells at him to clear the field for the next throw _some time today, Asahi!_  
  


 

\---

  
  
  
Later, Coach Ukai makes them take a slow lap around the field to cool down. Asahi usually prefers to run alone, to clear his head, but this time someone pulls up beside him.  
  
“Nice throw earlier, Asahi-san!”  
  
Asahi jumps a little, and turns to give Nishinoya a sheepish smile. “Thanks. Nice run.”  
  
“Thanks!” Nishinoya’s grin blazes- so brightly it’s almost hard to look at him. He keeps pace with Asahi’s longer legs easily, and Asahi has to stop himself from letting his gaze dip lower, to the edge of those tiny sport shorts.  
  
His ears start to warm. He hopes it’s not too noticeable.  
  
“You know, Asahi-san,” Nishinoya says. “You should come watch a movie with me tomorrow.”  
  
Asahi trips.  
  
“I should- movie- um what?” He stammers, wobbling to a stop. Nishinoya stops a few steps ahead.  
  
_Idiot!_ he thinks. Just because he was thinking not-so-innocent thoughts doesn’t mean Nishinoya is asking him out on a- on a _date_.  
  
A few other runners flow around them, Suga and Daichi included. Both of them pound Asahi on the back as they pass, making him stumble.  
  
He glances from their retreating grins to Nishinoya’s suddenly serious face, and wonders suddenly where his stomach’s gone. He thinks it might be in the vicinity of his shoes.  
  
Nishinoya tilts his head, fixing Asahi with a laser focus. “Asahi-san, you like me. Don’t you?”  
  
There is a horrified silence. Instinctive denials leap to his lips, and fade at Nishinoya’s straightforward stare. Finally, Asahi buries his face in his hands with a moan. If he thought he was embarrassed earlier, it was nothing compared to this.  
  
“I- I’m sorry!”  
  
Asahi might be Karasuno’s strongest hope for a gold medal in javelin and discus at the Inter-High sports meet, but he can’t deal with Nishinoya knowing about his feelings, he _can’t_. They’re _friends_ \- what kind of friend obsesses over another like this? Asahi really just- he wants to crawl under the bleachers and never come back out.  
  
Nishinoya... pokes him in the stomach. When he jerks, trying to curl inwards, the other boy stops him with small, strong fingers around his wrist.  
  
“Hey,” he murmurs, strangely soft. “It’s okay, Asahi-san. Look at me?”  
  
Asahi shakes his head. Looking at Nishinoya is the absolute last thing he wants to do- he’s too busy hoping the darkness behind his eyelids will swallow him up.  
  
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, you know. I like you, too.”  
  
What? This time, when Nishinoya pulls, Asahi lets his hands be tugged away from his face because- _what?_  
  
“Ha?” he says.  
  
Good going, Asahi, a traitorous voice in his head pipes up. So impressive. He’s pretty sure he can’t get any redder without bursting into flames, but his face gives it a try anyway.  
  
Nishinoya grins, wide and happy. “I like you,” he declares, looking Asahi straight in the eye. Impossibly, impossibly brave. “You dumbass! I’ve liked you for ages, and I figured after today, well, can’t hurt to ask, right? So- do you want to watch a movie or not? There’s a new monsters versus robots film I really want to see!”  
  
And he waits- waits for Asahi to find his tongue and his courage, waits for Asahi to drag breath into his lungs to speak, _would_ wait, probably, until the end of days, because that’s the kind of person Nishinoya is.  
  
Asahi doesn’t deserve this. Asahi doesn’t deserve _him_  
  
But when Nishinoya is looking at him like that, hand still wrapped loosely around Asahi’s much-larger wrist, Asahi almost feels like he could be brave, too.  
  
He draws in a shaking breath and croaks, “O- okay.”  
  
“Okay,” Nishinoya says, and squeezes his wrist.  
  


 

\---

  
  
  
A week later, Asahi has an armful of javelins and is leaning over to pick up the rack when Nishinoya, walking past, smacks him neatly on the ass. Asahi’s sure he makes it about a foot into the air, and he drops _everything._  
  
“Noya!” He yelps, face flaming.  
  
“Sorry, Asahi-san,” Nishinoya chirps, wicked and absolutely unrepentant. “Your ass looks really good in those shorts.”  
  
Before Asahi can do more than gape, Coach Ukai is yelling at him from the 100 metre line. As he apologises, scrambling to pick up everything he dropped, Nishinoya joins him.  
  
They pack up, Nishinoya bumping his hip companionably, and Asahi thinks, _yeah_.  
  
He could learn to love this.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [twitter!](http://www.twitter.com/foxrocksyrsocks)


End file.
